If a Tree Falls...
by BonnieD
Summary: If you’re granted a soul and no one sees it happen, how do you prove it? (In this story pretend Xander never told Dawn about Buffy’s “almost-rape”.)


Title: IF A TREE FALLS..(1/1) Author: Bonnie Email: bondav40@yahoo.com Rating: PG-13 Summary: If you're granted a soul and no one sees it happen, how do you prove it? (In this story pretend Xander never told Dawn about Buffy's "almost-rape".) Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and UPN.  
  
  
  
"Slay-er, come out and play. I've got something to show you," the blond vamp stood in front of the house on Revello Drive, smoking a cigarette and waiting for his challenge to be accepted. "Come on now. I've been waiting for this for months!"  
  
A light came on in an upstairs window, which was quickly tossed open. A blond head poked out and amazed eyes regarded him. "Spike? You're back?"  
  
"That's right, sweetheart. Old Spike's back for you, and I brought you something really special."  
  
"When did....? Where were you?" Buffy stammered, her voice edging into tears.  
  
"I'll explain everything. Just come out," he cajoled, a smirk playing across his features.  
  
The head in the upper room disappeared and soon reappeared at the front door attached to a body dressed in a filmy white negligee. She came toward him tentatively, hesitation in every step. He waited, swathed in his sexy black duster, for her to draw near enough for him to read her expression. Her wide hazel eyes and pink trembling lips betrayed her surprise, uncertainty and deep desire for him. Ah yes, this was going to be fun.  
  
"Spike," she barely whispered. "I missed you so...."  
  
"I know, pet. I know. But I'm here for you now. Come a little closer and I'll show you what I got on my trip." She stepped closer. "Or actually......what I lost!"  
  
He fell on her then, fangs bared and ripping...ripping at her lovely white throat. Blood spurted everywhere as he hit the jugular. He pulled back long enough to take one good look at her shocked face and smile in satisfaction, then, with a snarl, he attacked her neck once more, sucking and feasting on the glorious Slayer blood.  
  
Spike woke with a sigh from his favorite dream. Well, not actually his very favorite, that was the one that included a long drawn out battle with the Slayer before he ate her up. He was tempted to curl back up and try to recapture the dream rather than face the next leg of the journey ahead of him, but the banging of a headboard on the wall behind him, let him know he would not be drifting back to sleep again. After two months of cheap motels or sleeping in sewers, it would be a pleasure to get home to his quiet crypt again. He hoped Clem had kept an eye on his stuff, and he wouldn't find his meager possessions looted or destroyed.  
  
As the concert of groans and gasps from the next room increased in pitch and tempo, Spike hopped out of bed and quickly dressed. Time to be on the road again. Another night's travel should bring him to Sunnydale. He asked himself again why he was going back to that benighted hellhole, and, as usual, didn't wait to hear what he would answer himself. He had reached a truce with his inner voices, a kind of don't ask/don't tell policy. The trick was just to keep moving and not thinking. So, he took a last look around the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, laughed out loud because he didn't own anything to forget, then exited the room. Moving on....  
  
*********** "Dawn!" Buffy roared.  
  
"What?" her sister snapped.  
  
"What color is this shirt?" Buffy entered the living room, extending the offending garment in front of her.  
  
"P-pink," Dawn said, defiantly. "Pastel pink."  
  
"And what color is it supposed to be?"  
  
"Pink! That shirt's always been pink," Dawn said, carelessly.  
  
"Wrong! This was my favorite, my very favorite, white top. How many times do I have to tell you to sort the laundry. You can't just bundle it all in together like you do."  
  
"Hey, at least I'm doing the laundry....and all of the other housework around here I might add."  
  
Buffy glanced around at the messy living room and cluttered kitchen counters beyond. She bit back her assessment of Dawn's housekeeping skills and tried to respond in a neutral tone. Up until recently they had been at each other's throats so often it had become habit, and Buffy was anxious not to upset the apple cart of their new closeness over a sloppy house and a laundry mistake.  
  
"All right. I realize you've been doing a lot, and I appreciate it. Just please, please, please separate the whites, cause I can't afford to buy new clothes right now."  
  
Guilt swept over Dawn's face. She knew Buffy was working double shifts to keep them under a roof and fed, while still keeping up her Slayer duties. Looking around the room it was obvious, even to a teenager, that their house was no longer 'homey'. In fact it was rather a disaster.  
  
"I'm sorry. I'll do better," she said in a small voice. "I can do better than this." She gestured around at the mess.  
  
"Fine," Buffy nodded her agreement and dropped the subject. "So, how was your job today? Is bagging at the Stop and Shop everything you dreamed it would be?" she teased.  
  
"It's both challenging AND rewarding," Dawn quipped, relieved to be let off the hook so lightly.  
  
"Well, just remind yourself it's the difference between a new fall wardrobe and wearing last year's fashions," said the ever clothes-conscious Slayer.  
  
Dawn grimaced at the thought of work, but didn't say another word. It was truly the most boring job she'd ever held, but, come to think of it, it was the ONLY job she'd ever held. She resumed the task of painting her toenails.  
  
"Xander and I are going to swing by Willow's house tonight and try to get her to come out," Buffy continued. "She's hardly left her room since...Anyway, her mom asked us to please try and get her out of the house." Actually, Mrs. Rosenberg never stopped grilling Xander and Buffy about what had happened to make her daughter drop out of school and retreat from the world. There was nothing either of the erstwhile witch's friends could tell her. "Wanna come?"  
  
"Naw. Vickie's going to call and tell how her date with Ernesto went. I told her I'd be around to hear all the details," Dawn explained. 'Besides Willow gives me the creeps,' she thought but would never say. "Tell her, um, 'hello' from me, though."  
  
"Sure." Buffy had slipped on a different blouse and now grabbed her jacket and headed off into the night. She didn't see or sense the figure hiding, not under the tree in her yard where he'd always half-hoped to be caught, but in the shadows of her neighbor's house. After she was several blocks away, he slipped after her, staying well back but always keeping her in his sights.  
  
************** Spike dropped his bag of pig's blood as he climbed down the ladder to the lower level of his crypt. The plastic shattered and a spray of blood arched across the floor, drenching his newly stolen rug.  
  
"Perfect," he muttered, stepping around the mess and sinking down in a chair. He rested his aching head, one of the delightful perks that came with his new soul, against the back of the chair and thought about what a loser he'd turned into. Three days back to Sunnydale and he had already broken his promise to himself and started following the stupid Slayer around town again.  
  
Tonight she and her pal, Xander, had been to see Red, who was apparently living back home with her parents. What was that all about? Another fight between the two Wiccans? Well, it was none of his concern, though he was mildly curious.  
  
When it became obvious they'd be staying put there for awhile, Spike considered returning to the Summers' house and trying to catch a glimpse of Dawn through the windows, but that was too pathetic even for him, so he stopped by the butcher's then came home. Home to a dark, musty crypt. Well, at least it was blissfully quiet after the stress of his long journey.  
  
Bang! What the hell.....Spike's eyes flew open, as he heard the door upstairs crash open. He leaped up and grabbed a weapon, then stood, poised and listening. Would it be Clem's heavy tread and hearty, "Hey, you home, Spike?" or the Slayer's furious voice, "What the hell are you doing back here again. I saw you following me!"?  
  
The sound of stifled laughter and two loudly whispering voices, male and female, drifted down to his waiting ears. Spike smiled. A pair of lovers looking for a place to shag, how sweet. He'd give'em an experience they'd treasure forever. Stealthily, he crept up the ladder, ready to provide a good scare for the careless kids. Anyone who lived in Sunnydale should know by now that the cemetery was not a safe place to play.  
  
At the top he halted and listened again.  
  
"How'd you find out about this place. It's so cool," the boy's voice was impressed.  
  
"Oh, I know some people," the girl answered vaguely. "This town isn't as dangerous as people make it out to be, if you just know how to protect yourself and always watch your back. You see I...."  
  
Dawn? As she chattered on, Spike remained frozen on the ladder. Dawn here. With a boy. Trying to impress him, and.....what else? Should he interrupt them? Beat the crap out of the horny bastard and take the flirting little chit home? Or should he wait and see if the situation would resolve itself on its own? Maybe they'd toddle off again in a minute. He opted for caution, something that never would have occurred to him pre-soul, and waited silently to see what would happen next.  
  
"Actually," Dawn was confiding, "I used to have a friend who lived here. He was....like, this homeless guy."  
  
"How'd a homeless guy get this nice stuff."  
  
"Stole it," Dawn said.  
  
'Not all of it,' Spike amended, mentally.  
  
"Yep. I used to help him sometimes. I was pretty good at lifting things," she hastened to add, "but I don't do it anymore."  
  
"Shoplifter, eh? Cool." The boy's voice became teasing and seductive, "Are you a BAD girl, Dawn? Wanna show me how bad you can be?"  
  
Spike stiffened and growled deep in his throat, his features shifting to demon. This little scene had about played itself out and he was ready to make an entrance. Trouble was he didn't know how Niblet would feel about him breaking up her party. After all, he scolded himself, the girl was almost sixteen and it wasn't his place to monitor her sexual activities....  
  
Dawn giggled and slurpy sounds from above made Spike grimace with distaste. He really didn't need to hear any more of this for his own mental health. The nasty little runt was probably pawing at her about now.  
  
"Hey! Jeez, Bri, slow down a little willya?"  
  
"Sorry. I....You just make me so hot. I can't help myself."  
  
"Well try!"  
  
'Good girl,' Spike approved. He began to ease his way back down the ladder praying that Dawn wouldn't bring the kid down here to use his bed.  
  
"Can I just put my hand...."  
  
"No. I'm sorry, but I came here to make out a little not have, like, a sexfest. Sorry if you misunderstood that."  
  
"Aw, come on, Dawn. You like to act like you're so grown up and hard ass, but when push comes to shove, just look at you! You're such a little girl."  
  
"Whatever. You know, you're starting to piss me off, Brian. Let's just go."  
  
'Great,' Spike thought, encouraged.  
  
"Come on! Don't you wanna try it? See what all the fuss is about?" More slurpy sounds, and some heavy breathing.  
  
"Ow! Cut it out!" Smack.  
  
"All right. That's it!" Spike said aloud and charged back up the ladder. He emerged with a roar that scattered the fully clothed, (Thank God) groping couple like leaves before a storm. The manly Brian let out a high- pitched scream and tripped headlong, knocking his head on the edge of the sarcophagus as he went down. Dawn rolled the other direction and came up with a stake in one hand, assuming a battle stance. Spike was impressed. The girl came prepared.  
  
"Friggin' Spike! What do you think you're doing? You scared the hell out of us. Why are you here?" she shrieked when she saw him.  
  
"I live here," he said, calmly, walking over to her gawky boyfriend and nudging him with a foot. "I think your little friend here is unconscious," he remarked.  
  
"Oh my god," Dawn blanched at the sight of the blood trickling down from Brian's temple. She rushed to his side and began to dab at the wound, wiping away the blood to find the extent of damage. It occurred to Spike that it was a waste of perfectly good blood, but he kept the thought to himself. "You could've killed him!" She glared up at the vampire in rage.  
  
"I didn't do a thing," he protested. "He tripped."  
  
"Which he wouldn't have done if you hadn't come bursting up here like some crazy monster."  
  
He refrained from stating the obvious.  
  
"He looks like he'll be okay," Dawn proclaimed after her examination. "But you're going to have to help me by carrying him back to his house."  
  
Spike sighed. "Can't we just dump him somewhere? The wanker deserves it."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"For trying to make you...For being fresh with you."  
  
"Spike! Were you trying to, like, protect me? You're insane! I had it perfectly under control."  
  
"Didn't sound like it."  
  
"He was just seeing how far he could push. Boys are always like that. But I decide how far I want to go and, believe me, it goes no farther. I didn't need your help."  
  
"You're always reading those teen magazines. Didn't you ever hear of 'date rape'?"  
  
"Puh-leeze, it's Brian we're talking about here, not some low-ego loser who can't control himself. He knows my 'no' means NO."  
  
Suddenly Spike was feeling nauseous and headachy again. Did the kid know about what had happened with Buffy before he left? No, he thought not or that stake would have been through him by now. Without another word he lifted the unconscious boy and followed Dawn out of the crypt.  
  
As they walked through the cemetery, he noted that she was casting sideways looks at him, suddenly shy and uncertain. Finally she couldn't maintain the silence a second longer.  
  
"Why did you do it? Just leave like that? Where did you go? You have no idea what went down here after you left. It's been hell! Worse than Glory. Tara and Buffy both got shot. And then Willow went crazy. Then Giles came. And Buffy and I were stuck in a pit. But Xander stopped her and saved all of us. It was just - amazing. But, oh Spike, Tara!" Dawn's incoherent rambling turned into tears, big hicoughing sobs that racked her body.  
  
Spike laid Brian's body down on the ground, none too gently, and turned to gather the mourning girl in his arms. He stroked her back, relishing the feel of her long, smooth hair slipping under his hand. It reminded him of the summer after Buffy died - but not, since she had never allowed herself to break down like this at the time. They had spent those 147 days in denial together, companionable but skirting the darkly painful fact of Buffy's death like a sleeping tiger that might waken and devour them if they poked at it.  
  
"What happened?" he finally asked gently, when her tears had subsided a little. Then Dawn told him the story of Tara's death and its aftermath. Spike nodded slightly. Hadn't he warned Harris about that witch? Told him she was headed into dangerous waters? But no one would listen to him. Oh no. Well, no matter now, it was too late to change things, and it seemed it had all come out right in the end anyway.  
  
Spike stopped petting Dawn and stooped to pick up her fallen boyfriend again. As they walked on, she continued to regale him with the Scoobies' exploits.  
  
"Anya and Xander still haven't made up. They have to be around each other cause, you know, we need the research books at the Magic Box. I don't know if they'll ever get past the things they did to each other." Then, remembering that Spike was very much a part of 'things', Dawn fell momentarily silent. They trudged along for a while and finally she burst forth again, reiterating her earlier question. "Where did you go?"  
  
"Africa," he said simply.  
  
"Africa! Why?"  
  
"I had to see a guy about something......something personal."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you understand the meaning of the word 'personal'?"  
  
"Well, yeah, but, Spike, AFRICA?! Come on. Tell me!"  
  
"I had something I needed fixed. But it's all right now," he replied enigmatically.  
  
"What is this? Twenty question? What could you possibly have that needed fixing that required going all the way to.....oh." Dawn's eyes grew wide as the implications of the question came through to her. "The chip."  
  
"No! Not the bloody chip!" Spike snapped. "I could have gotten the stupid, sodding chip out in America if I'd really wanted to. Face it, the damn thing doesn't signify anymore, as I tried to tell her many a time. I've changed. It's too late to go back to being the Big Bad - chip or no chip. I don't even want to anymore."  
  
"Okay! Okay! You don't have to convince me. I'm not the one who doubted you, remember?" Dawn calmed the irate vamp. "But then what were you in Africa for? Some weird vampire illness?"  
  
"Nothing! I don't want to talk about it," he cut her off. "Now where the hell are we taking this whelp?"  
  
Dawn dropped it for the time being and directed him to Bri's street, where he deposited the boy on his front porch. His parents would probably think he'd gotten drunk and passed out. Good! Let him get in trouble, Dawn thought. Served him right for being so pushy and snotty with her.  
  
Spike walked her most of the rest of the way home, stopping at the end of their block.  
  
"You won't tell Buffy you've seen me, eh?" he asked. "Not ready to deal with her yet."  
  
"It's hardly likely since I'd have to tell her how I happened to run into you," Dawn pointed out. "Don't think I want to mention I was making out with Brian in your crypt."  
  
He nodded then stepped forward and hugged her awkwardly. "Good to see you again 'Bit. And I'm real sorry about Tara. She was a right nice bird. Good sense of humor too, sometimes."  
  
"Yeah. We all miss her. She was so quiet, but now that she's not around you realize how much her presence......well, anyway, we miss her."  
  
Spike nodded sympathetically, gave her a quick kiss on the forehead then faded off into the night. Dawn continued on to the house, running the evening over and over in her mind. Spike back. What was this going to mean? What would happen next?  
  
****************  
  
Buffy returned home from Willow's later that night as exhausted as if she'd been out slaying all evening. She and Xander had worked every topic they could think of to try to draw their friend out, but her replies were monosyllabic. Finally they had given up and just sat with her, watching Xander's favorite "King Ralph", hoping the comedy would cheer her up even a little.  
  
The Slayer quickly checked on her sister, who appeared to be sleeping soundly, then got ready for bed and sank gratefully onto her own soft bed. Soon her mind was unleashed into the world of dreams..  
  
She was slow-dancing with someone, a tall, strong, masculine presence which was a shadowy conglomeration of Angel, Riley and Giles. Wrapped in the protective circle of his arms, swaying to the music, she knew she was safe and loved. "My princess," he told her, "I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything."  
  
"Good," she thought, resting her head against his chest. "I'm tired of figuring things out. Tired of being in charge. Let me be a little girl."  
  
The music changed, became sensual with an insistently seductive beat. The body holding her changed, too. It was harder with sinewy muscle, and a slighter build. Without looking up she knew very well whose pelvis was grinding against her own, whose hands were stroking her body. His lips touched her ear and she trembled at his languid drawl, "Slayer."  
  
"Spike, why don't you go away? I can't even dream in peace."  
  
"Because you haven't released me. I know you still want me. I know everything you want." He proceeded to prove it with his hands and mouth.  
  
She eventually pulled away gasping and protesting. "No you DON'T know what I want. You think you know me but you don't!"  
  
"I know that you're a warrior, not a little doll or a princess, and you need a mate, not a daddy. I'm your man, pet."  
  
Damn, stupid Spike! And his stupid tongue that knew the right things to say in that sexy voice, and the right way to lap at her neck. And his stupid eyes, when she finally looked up, that managed to look teasing and demanding and hopeful all at the same time. And his stupid hands that knew right where to touch her for maximum pleasure. Dream-Buffy gave up thinking and arguing and decided to go with the flow. The dream deteriorated into a sexual free-for-all.  
  
Buffy smiled in her sleep, her body rocking in the rhythm of the dream.  
  
*************** As dawn broke the sky, Spike finished reorganizing the crypt, noting the many items Clem had 'borrowed' and carried off to his own place. Still exhausted from his long journey home, the vampire lay down for the day and quickly drifted off into his other, other most favorite dream - the one that didn't involve killing and devouring Buffy. Well, maybe devouring, but in a whole different way.  
  
"Oh Spike! You're everything I ever wanted. Why did I ever drive you away? I'm so sorry." She stood before him in her filmy negligee, an entreating look in her wide eyes. How could he not forgive her?  
  
"It's all right, sweetheart. Your Spike's back now, and I have.....something to tell you. I have a gift for you."  
  
"What is it, my beloved?" she asked, clutching his arm endearingly.  
  
"While I was away, I earned something to make me worthy of you. I have....A SOUL! (A blare of trumpets sounded.)  
  
"Oh!!!" Buffy was overcome with emotion and fell weeping into his arms. "You did this for me? I'm so ashamed. I should have admitted I loved you with or without a soul. Again, forgive me! And oh, lord of my heart, thank you for going on this magnificent quest just to appease me. I've been such a bitch!"  
  
In answer, Spike kissed her long and deep and soon their bodies were wrapped around one another in the throes of desire.....  
  
Spike smiled in his sleep and rolled over, his cock stiffening noticeably under the sheet as the dream went on and on.  
  
******************** A couple of days later, the inevitable happened. Spike was turning from the bar at the new pub he'd taken to frequenting. A dark-haired man bumped against the vamp and spilled his drink, tossing off a distracted, "Sorry," just as Spike irritably snapped, "Why don't you watch where you're.." They both froze, eyes locked.  
  
"What are you doing back here?" Xander finally demanded.  
  
Spike didn't have a good answer for that so he changed the subject. "Heard about Red and all the trouble. Sorry it went down like that."  
  
"Yeah. I'm sure you care," the young man was scathingly sarcastic, as memories of his fiance pinned under this son-of-a-bitch flashed through his mind.  
  
"Believe what you like. I AM sorry..about all of it," he added. "I didn't mean to.."  
  
"What? Fuck my girlfriend? Almost rape Buffy?" Xander's voice rose.  
  
He knew. Why did the boy know and Dawn didn't? Who else knew? And how could he ever fuckin' live this down with them or Buffy or himself? There was nothing to say in his defense, so he just stood there.  
  
"Look," Xander moved in threateningly close, jabbing a finger into Spike's chest to punctuate his words. "Why don't you show us how much you CARE and just get the hell out of here. Nobody wants you back. SHE doesn't want you back. Leave her alone."  
  
Spike swallowed and dropped his eyes as he pushed past the wall of hate that was Xander and blindly headed for the door. His headache raged, and he knew if he didn't get out of this place in the next 30 seconds he was going to lose his afternoon ration of blood and alcohol right on the floor.  
  
He emerged into the cool night air and took a quick tour of the alley to the right of the building, where he fell to his knees and vomited until he had the dry heaves.  
  
"Spike?" A familiar voice (beautiful voice, beloved voice) interrupted his up-close and personal examination of the ground. He jerked up from all fours and beheld her, silhouetted by the streetlight, which shone behind her. Typical. She was haloed like an angel, and he was crawling around on the ground like a slug. Just the way he had pictured their reunion. He wiped tendrils of spew off his chin with the back of his hand.  
  
"Hey Buffy," was all he could manage to croak.  
  
"What are you doing?" She was using her annoyed schoolteacher tone. Well, that was somewhat promising, better than her cold 'I hate you, get the hell out of my sight' voice.  
  
"Um, throwing up." His charm and wit was unstoppable this evening.  
  
She walked toward him slowly, seeming to be weighing her words. "When did you get back?"  
  
"About a week. Yeah, almost a week." He couldn't see her face, which was still backlit. It put him at an uncomfortable disadvantage, since she could see every emotion that flowed across his face. He felt tears unaccountably begin to form at the corners of his eyes and furiously willed them back. This was so fucking humiliating!  
  
She moved yet closer, standing above him looking down. "Did you hear any gossip about what happened here, while you were gone?"  
  
He babbled a reply. "Yeah, Dawn told.." He snapped his mouth closed but it was too late.  
  
"You've seen Dawn?!" she demanded.  
  
"No. I mean, yes. I just ran into her..around town."  
  
"Did you come to our house while I was gone? How long has she known? Why didn't she tell me? Did you tell her not to tell me?" Buffy became more agitated with each question. Spike decided to ignore the first two questions.  
  
"Yes, I asked her not to mention it to you."  
  
"Why the hell not?!"  
  
"Because of this. Exactly this. I wasn't ready to be attacked and grilled by her Royal Slayer-Bitch quite yet." There, that snappy comeback redeemed his pride a little.  
  
But the evil Slayer changed tactics, "So, you came back, but didn't want me to know you were back...Why ARE you back, Spike? And, more important, what were you doing while you were away?" Buffy asked the question warily, an uneasy suspicion beginning to dawn on her.  
  
"Took a trip," he said, succinctly.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Bloody Africa, all right." Damn, why did he always find himself uncontrollably answering her every question truthfully.  
  
"Africa?!!"  
  
"That's right. Went on safari."  
  
"What are you up to?" She drew yet another step closer. As diminutive as the girl was, she seemed to tower over him where he crouched, still on his knees. "Spike..what did you do in Africa?"  
  
He decided stonewalling was his best bet and shut his mouth on any further answers that might try to slip out. She grabbed his head by the hair and yanked it to one side, examining his scalp for any sign of surgery.  
  
"Ow! It wasn't the damn chip, all right? I'm still chipped up good and proper."  
  
She released him, but still bending over slightly hissed, "What then? What did you go to do?"  
  
"Maybe I just wanted to get the hell away from you!" he yelled, desperately. "Maybe I couldn't stand another fucking day of seeing your face every place I turn in this town."  
  
"Then why'd you come back?" she said, stating the obvious. His mouth opened, but there was no answer to that question.  
  
"Did you think I'd be glad to see you after what you tried to do to me, Spike?" He couldn't see more than a glitter of eyes in her shadowy face, but he could feel them pierce him like a stake.  
  
All his false bravado fell away and he muttered brokenly, "I'm sorry about that. You know I didn't mean..I wouldn't hurt you for anything.." His useless words trailed off. There was no way to make up for that sin in her eyes.  
  
She sighed. "All right," she resumed an upright stance, arms folded in front of her. "Enough of this. I want answers..NOW. What did you do? Who did you see? And what kind of mayhem are you planning?"  
  
Unbidden the words he had dreamed of saying in some proud and triumphant fantasy, came spilling foolishly out of his mouth. They sounded like a lie even to his own ears. "I went to Africa to see a..kind of a demi-god..that I had heard about. Didn't even know if it was a legend or what, but I had to find out. Story was you could get any boon you asked for if you went through this set of trials. So I found the bloke, did it, and got my request. Didn't ask for the chip out - no, that's what YOU'd expect isn't it? I asked for something real important, something to make you love me. Asked for my soul back didn't I. And got it, too." He looked up from under his dark brows, gauging her reaction to the improbable story.  
  
"You...got your soul back," she dropped the words carefully, like pebbles in a well.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She began to laugh, a high-pitched, almost hysterical giggle. She choked her next words out. "You, William the Bloody, went on a mystical quest and .." She couldn't continue.  
  
Spike finally hauled himself off his knees and stood, shaking with fury, in front of her. "It's the truth," he insisted. "Why would I make up."  
  
"Oh please! This from the guy who chained me up in his basement to prove his love? From the guy who practically raped me in my bathroom to get me to say 'I love you' back? You would do anything, SAY anything to try to convince me.."  
  
"Forget it." He tried to push past her, as she blocked the only exit from the alley, but she grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around and shoved him up against the wall.  
  
"No. No. Tell me more about this adventure. What kind of 'trials' did you have to go through, hm? What did you say to the man when you asked for your boon? 'Soul me!'"  
  
Spike turned his head sideways to avoid her eyes. "Don't. Please. I knew I shouldn't tell you. Knew you wouldn't believe me."  
  
"Spikey gonna cry now?" she continued mercilessly. "Cause now you're so sensitive, right? Now everything touches your poor, guilty heart." She released him and threw her hands up in the air. "Sorry, it just doesn't fly with me. Interesting storyline though."  
  
He took the opportunity to pull away and run like a whipped dog out of the alley and toward home, the sound of mocking Slayer laughter ringing in his ears all the way.  
  
******************* Buffy stopped laughing the minute Spike disappeared around the corner. Part of her had stood outside herself as she taunted him, marveling at her tongue's ability to pistol-whip him into submission. Why had his stupid story upset her so? It wasn't the first time she had dealt with Spike's nonsense when he was trying to impress her. Why did this declaration of soul-having piss her off so much she wanted to beat him to a pulp? She was sure the answer was rooted somewhere in her relationship with Angel, but she was just too damn tired to examine that right now, plus Xander was expecting her to meet him at the bar and she was way late.  
  
Buffy swept her emotions under a rug, as usual, and marched into the pub to meet her friend. Xander hailed her from the table where he sat nursing a whiskey sour, his new favorite drink.  
  
"Hey! You'll never guess what bad penny turned up in Sunnydale yet again," he greeted her.  
  
"Spike?" she guessed. "I saw him outside. Don't want to think about it. Let's just drink."  
  
"Well, what'd he say," Xander pressed.  
  
"Some bizarre story about going to Africa and getting his soul returned to him. Just typical Spike crazy-bragging."  
  
"Man, the guy's desperate!"  
  
"Drop it, okay? I really don't need Spike-thoughts tonight," she said. 'Bad enough he haunts my dreams,' her mind added.  
  
"Sure," Xander nodded understandingly. "Have a drink and we'll talk about something not related to vampires, ex-girlfriends, Willow, demons, hell- gods, or the Doublemeat Palace. They sat in silence for a several minutes, then began to gossip about what Giles might be up to in England.  
  
*************** The next day after their respective jobs were finished for the day, Buffy and Xander met at the Magic Box. Anya was just closing up shop. She and Xander exchanged polite nods, and Buffy, as usual, tried to gloss over the awkwardness by running intermediary between the two. She so wanted them to make up and figured these remnants-of-Scoobies powwows were the only way she could ensure continued contact between them. Willow was still ensconced in her parents' home and Buffy didn't know what to do to lure her out. Dawn, whom Buffy had not confronted yet, would be there as soon as her shift at the Stop 'n' Shop ended.  
  
"Well, Anya," Buffy decided to cut straight to the chase. "Spike's back in town."  
  
"Oh," the newly restored vengeance demon began busily straightening the counter.  
  
"Says he's been to Africa and earned himself a soul," Xander continued, looking for a reaction.  
  
"He went to D'Lal Mahombib?" Anya said, surprised. "I've never of anyone passing all the tests! How'd he do it?"  
  
"What! You've heard of this.this god-creature-thing legend?" Buffy was astounded.  
  
"Oh yes. But it's not a legend. I was privileged to see the cave of D'Lal Mahombib once, though of course I never went inside. There wasn't anything in particular I needed," she shrugged.  
  
"Come on, An. You don't believe Spike really got a soul," Xander said.  
  
The shop bell rang and Dawn entered, swinging her purse in wide, happy arcs. "Hey! What's up everybody? Great days at work?"  
  
"Super day!" Anya answered. "The customers about cleared the shelves! Oh, and Spike's back, and he's apparently got a soul."  
  
"Spike. Back here? Really!" Dawn feigned amazement. As the second part of what Anya said hit her she added without thinking, "A soul!? I thought he seemed..different..somehow!"  
  
"So you knew Spike was back," Buffy pounced.  
  
"Um. I. Ah..yeah," Dawn said meekly. "I saw him around town one evening, but, you know, we didn't talk or anything."  
  
"Right." Buffy decided to pursue this lie later.  
  
"But anyway, Buffy, a soul!!!! Isn't that great? Aren't you glad? Now you can, you know..."  
  
"Dawn," Xander interrupted condescendingly. "This is just one of Spike's fantasies. I mean, I could wear a tutu and call myself a ballerina but it doesn't make it so."  
  
"How do you know it's not true?" Dawn rounded on him angrily. "You hate Spike so much God himself could turn him into an angel with wings and a halo right in front of you and you wouldn't believe." The teenager turned to her sister, "So you've seen him, Buffy? What did he seem like? What did you two talk about? Did you make up?"  
  
"He just made up this story about Africa. You really have to learn not to trust Spike too much, honey. It's true he's helped us out sometimes, but he'll never really change and you can't be too careful around him."  
  
"Cause he's no Angel," Dawn quipped. "I see. Double-standard. Souled Angel equals good. Souled Spike equals still-evil."  
  
"It's just a story. We don't know if it's true that he has a.a," the exasperated Slayer tried to explain, but couldn't even say the word.  
  
"I can tell you right off if he does or doesn't have one," Anya chimed in brightly. "I can smell a soul on a creature a mile away. Just bring him around here or get him to come to the Bronze or something, and I'll tell you if the story's true."  
  
"There! You see? Problem solved," Dawn folded her arms and stared at her sister challengingly. "Or are you afraid to test it? Maybe not afraid he'll fail, but afraid it's the truth..and then what do you do, huh?"  
  
God, Buffy hated when her sister got wise on her. There was no way to deny the fear now, no way to escape finding out the truth. Dawn had her cornered and she'd have to put up or shut up.  
  
"Why wait? Let's get it cleared up right now. Anya, are you willing to come to Spike's crypt with us right now and give him a sniff?" Dawn pushed relentlessly.  
  
"This is crazy!" Xander interrupted. "There'll be no sniffing of anybody by my fiance!"  
  
"Ex-fiance," Anya corrected acidly.  
  
"I don't believe I ever got the ring back," Xander rejoined.  
  
"Guys, stop it," Buffy intercepted. "Fine, Dawn, you got it. Let's all troop over to Spike's place and give him the litmus test. I'm sure Anya will be completely unbiased."  
  
"What does that mean?" Anya began.  
  
"Never mind," Buffy waved a hand. "I was just being...I trust you. Whichever you say, yes or no, I'll accept."  
  
"Fine! Let's go," Dawn said, tapping her foot impatiently.  
  
A sense of doom stole over Buffy as the gang headed out the door. As adamant as her protests of the veracity of Spike's tale had been, her heart knew better. Sure he hid facts, colored truth and embroidered exploits, but Spike didn't lie when it came to truly important things, and if he really had a soul, what did that mean to her? She pushed the thought deep down inside and concentrated on the task of putting one foot in front of the other instead.  
  
"This is just ridiculous," Xander continued to grumble all the way there. "Serial killers have souls. That doesn't make'em any less evil. The whole point is it's Spike we're talking about here - ultimately untrustworthy. Look at the demon eggs incident or..or.what he tried to do to you, Buffy."  
  
"What?" Dawn piped up, interest piqued.  
  
"Nothing!" Buffy said firmly. "Xander shut up!"  
  
There was no way Dawn was letting it drop, but she decided to shelve the prying for later. Tensions were too high to add any more fuel to the fire. As they drew near the crypt, a dim light in the window let them know their target was home.  
  
"We can't all just march in on him like the Inquisition," the teen complained. "It's just.rude."  
  
"It does feel very invasive," Anya agreed.  
  
"Hey, it was your idea to settle this tonight - here and now," Buffy pointed out to her sister. "Maybe you'd rather we send demon-girl here with her soul-sensing powers in on her own?" She added in an undertone, "Of course, who knows if she'd come back out again."  
  
"What?!" Anya asked, looking up sharply.  
  
"Forget it. Just teasing. Ignore me."  
  
"More like just being jealous," Dawn muttered to herself with a little smile.  
  
"No! We all go in or no one does." Without waiting for more discussion, Xander threw open the door of the crypt.  
  
Spike glanced up from his packing, unsurprised. He had both heard and sensed the noisy humans arguing outside awhile ago. He gave them a general brief nod and continued putting books in a box. His face remained impassive when he spoke.  
  
"There's some stuff over there you can look through. Take anything you want." He gestured to a corner of the crypt where lamps, pillows, candles, and his crappy old TV set were piled. "It's not much, but maybe you'll find something you need."  
  
"What are you doing?" Dawn demanded, her voice rising in alarm.  
  
"What's it look like, Bit? I just came back for my stuff. Time to move on."  
  
"Good!" Xander exclaimed.  
  
"Shut up," Buffy reprimanded him for the second time that evening. Her eyes never left Spike's white hands as they handled the old volumes, lovingly packing each one. "So.you're just back to get your things? Why didn't you tell me that the other night?"  
  
He shrugged.  
  
"Uh, Buffy," Anya began.  
  
"Why are you leaving now when you never would before?" the blond continued.  
  
"Isn't it what you wanted?" he asked coolly, looking up at her.  
  
"Buffy, he's definitely." Anya continued.  
  
"And now you're suddenly listening to me?" Her eyes rose from his hands to his face, but she couldn't maintain contact with his penetrating gaze for more than a moment. She looked down.  
  
"This is the first time I really heard what you said," he explained quietly. "And you're right. After what happened..I have no business bothering you ever again."  
  
"As I started to say.."Anya tried.  
  
"You're giving up then? Not going to try to make amends or.."  
  
"I said 'I'm sorry'. There's nothing else I can do. I tried to tell you about the soul thing. Don't know why I dreamed it would make a difference. It was a stupid idea."  
  
"Make amends for what?" Dawn muttered to herself again. She could tell from Xander's face he knew exactly what the pair was referring to and it seemed to be more than the Spike/Anya fling they had all witnessed. As usual, Baby Sister was being kept out of the loop.  
  
"He has a.."  
  
'I don't want to know," Buffy suddenly turned on her fiercely. "I don't want to hear this!"  
  
"..soul," Anya finished triumphantly, happy to have finally gotten her pronouncement out.  
  
Spike refrained from saying 'I told you so,' but his little smirk said it for him. He picked up a sheet and started folding it.  
  
"What?!" Xander shouted.  
  
"Oh Spike, it's wonderful!" Dawn smiled tearfully, clasping her hands.  
  
"Definitely has a soul!" Anya sealed her decision.  
  
Buffy turned and practically ran from the crypt.  
  
**************** Willow lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling and mentally tracing the patterns of the cobwebs in the corners. She found the mental exercise of following the spider's intricate forms allowed her to zone out and spend whole minutes at a time not thinking. It was very relaxing.  
  
Suddenly her bedroom door burst open and Buffy exploded into the room, panting and wild-eyed.  
  
"Willow. You have to help me....I need....." She threw herself into her surprised friend's embrace, sobbing and shaking.  
  
"There. There," Willow said, faintly, rubbing Buffy's back. "What happened?"  
  
"Spike's back. He's got a soul. What should I do?"  
  
Willow's mouth quirked into a little smile as understanding dawned. "Why do you have to DO anything?"  
  
Buffy pulled away and began scrubbing at her eyes and trying to control her breathing. "You're right! Of course. What does it matter? It doesn't."  
  
"I mean, good for Spike, he deserves it. He's worked really hard to be better, and how did it happen, by the way? But, Buffy, it's HIS soul, why does it matter to you?"  
  
That was a loaded question and Willow knew it. She looked calculatingly at Buffy, hoping the truth would finally break through her friend's wall of denial. A minute ticked by.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"I...um...guess it doesn't. It doesn't matter to me." She added in a small voice, "Not at all."  
  
Willow sighed in frustration. Had her friend always been this difficult? Yes, she had. In touch with her own emotions - not a Buffy specialty.  
  
"Buffy!" The redhead gave her a stern look.  
  
"Well, maybe....a little, Maybe it matters a little," she conceded.  
  
The witch nodded, "That's better. You can't tell me all the sleeping-with- Spike you did meant nothing to you. I know you better. Casual sex and Buffy? Uh-uh. You have to have cared at least a smidgy-bit."  
  
Buffy shrugged and hung her head.  
  
"For heaven's sake, Buff," Willow said in exasperation, "no one's asking you to make a lifetime commitment here. Why don't you go ahead and explore the relationship and see where it leads? I mean, I know the guy isn't exactly orthodox - not a straight arrow Riley kind of normal - but he loves you and you seem to feel something for him, and life's just too damn short to pussyfoot around. Carpe diem!"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Go for it. When I think of all the months Tara and I wasted....no, let's face it, I wasted.....when we could've been together. If I'd known how little time we had left...." Willow's eyes filled. She thought her tear ducts must be just about worn out by now but somehow they kept on producing day after day. She sniffed and willed the tears back. "I'm just saying, take a chance, Buffy. Give him a chance if you care at all."  
  
Buffy sat another moment contemplating, then realization stole across her face like the sun rising. "You're right!" she said in awe. "You're right."  
  
She leaned over and hugged her friend then tore out of the room as abruptly as she'd arrived. Willow lay back on her pillow and watched the progress of the spider in the corner.  
  
***********  
  
Buffy burst into Spike's crypt with her usual imperious manner, swinging the door back so it smashed against the wall. The others had long since left, and the vampire was just shouldering his duffel and picking a box up under the other arm when she made her entrance.  
  
"Wait!" she commanded.  
  
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "What now? Make it quick, I'm just on my way out."  
  
"Don't leave."  
  
"Why not? You're not done rubbing my face in what I did yet? Thought of another couple of choice names to call me? Don't bother, I've already thought 'em all myself."  
  
"Spike, don't make this harder than it already is with your stupid attitude," Buffy bossed. "I'm trying to tell you something and it's not easy!"  
  
Spike shut up. This sounded promising.  
  
The girl took a deep breath and began more gently, "I'm saying....I missed you when you...disappeared. And.....I don't want you to go away again." Her gaze flicked up to meet his, her mouth tightening in annoyance, "Okay? Happy?"  
  
A grin spread over his face. "Yeah. Works for me."  
  
"Good! We're agreed then. You stick around. Things go back to the way they were when we were just - well I guess we never were really - friends. And then, we'll just see what happens from there."  
  
"It's a plan." He nodded, trying to banish the smile from his face, since he knew she'd read it as cockiness, and failing utterly.  
  
"All right then." Buffy backed a step toward the crypt door. "See you later. Maybe tomorrow." She tripped on the edge of the rug, clumsily righted herself, then gave him a curt nod and headed out the door.  
  
"'Night, Slayer," he called after her, letting the duffle drop off his shoulder and onto the floor.  
  
He thought he heard her voice faintly saying, "'Night Spike," as he set the box on the sarcophagus and began to unpack it.  
  
End 


End file.
